


they tried, which was enough

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Gen, idk what this is, it's not totally dad: 76 but it's close, um
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8026378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which Jack Morrison thinks that he's mentoring two young fighters of the Omnics and they think they're just taking care of a bitter old man.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> like i said. idk what the frick this is. just imagine for a second that this is a world where people run around fighting stuff and that's an environment which is ripe for found family dynamics to be created. this also may or may not be a way for me to practice using a proper amount of descriptive language.

The blood oozing from the gash on Morrison’s forehead would have been unsettling to a Hana from five years and 364 days ago. He winces as he lifts his right arm to reveal another injury, a dark and brutal bruise in his side.

Hana sighs and continues dabbing at the gash. Morrison wasn’t supposed to be in the battle, wasn’t even supposed to leave the factory, but leave he did, and showed up in the heat of battle, just as Lucio was knocked to the ground. Neither Hana nor Lucio had been seriously injured, but they certainly weren’t winning the fight against the omnics. Morrison was a blur of electric blue flashes and the red glare of his mask as he took the omnics down one by one.

And then he fell to his knees, wheezing as he allowed himself to feel the full pain of his effort.

Which brings them to this moment, with Lucio and Hana needing only very brief trips to their makeshift infirmary, and Morrison lying on a stretcher. He didn’t need the stretcher, or so he claimed, but Hana had stared him down.

Lucio pops in a minute later, knocking lightly on the wall.

“You okay, boss?” Lucio asks.

Morrison grunts and Hana shrugs.

“Oh. Well....I, um, brought you some music. No, you don’t need to protest. This is therapeutic stuff. Good for healing,” Lucio says as he crosses to the speaker system on the table in the other corner of the room. He presses a few buttons, and soon, a dreamily melodic sound fills the room. Lucio, bopping his head to the soft beat, slides back to the hallway. 

“I can turn it off if you want,” Hana mutters, dabbing the last of their ointment on Morrison’s forehead, “but he’s just trying to help.”

“Leave it.”

Hana narrows her eyes at Morrison, and finally bandages the wound.

“That wasn’t smart. What you did. We were fine.”

“You were losing.”

“We weren’t getting ourselves killed, unlike you. And now we’ll have to make another dangerous run to the city for ointment.”

“We’re out of coffee too.”

“Coffee we wouldn’t be running out of if not for _you_.”

Morrison turns his head towards Hana.

“Are you implying something, soldier?”

Hana snorts.

“Not everything I say is a mutiny. It just sounds like that because you can’t take criticism.”

Morrison breathes out heavily.

“Speaking of criticism, you need to watch your back. The omnics keep sneaking up on you.”

The music Lucio left behind suddenly becomes louder.

“Get some rest, boss. I’ll check on you in the morning.”

Hana leaves the room and leaves Morrison with the sound of a gentle synthesizer beat and his own labored breathing.  


	2. home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> morrison is reminded that lucio had another life once

It’s early. Far too early for Lucio to be playing music. Coffee or not, Morrison wasn’t going to let his morning be disturbed. He shuffles to the hallway, mug in tow, when he hears voices that actually aren’t singing coming from Lucio’s room. He can’t understand all of what they’re saying (they're speaking Portuguese and his Portuguese is rusty), but he recognizes a few things that sound like “home” and “don’t worry.” It's likely one of the few messages that they've been able to pick up on this spotty side of the grid. The music starts playing again, but not before a final sentence that has something to do with “new tracks” is spoken. Morrison hears something like sniffling coming from inside, but can’t be certain. He shrugs and takes another sip of his coffee.

He doesn’t bother Lucio about his music again afterwards.


	3. projected secrecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hana realizes that morrison doesn't really care about being known

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does this even make sense???? i googled 76 the other day and i didn't realize that his visor actually covered that much???? and i felt the need to write something about that so here ya go.

Hana knows that Morrison is an early bird, but she also knows that he likes to keep to himself, which is why she’s surprised to find him sitting in the kitchen at seven in the morning, a mug of coffee tightly gripped in his right hand. His eyes are barely open and he seems to be muttering something to himself about bitterness.

And then Hana realizes that, yes, she actually _is_ seeing Morrison’s full face. She drops her box of tea bags and the sound makes Morrison turn to the right to see her standing in the hallway. His eyes widen slightly as he seems to be focusing his vision on her.

“Song,” he says calmly, not seeming to notice the shock on her face.

Hana doesn’t respond, only pointing to Morrison’s face.

“If you want me to shave, then I’ll gladly wait for you to find me some razors.”

Morrison takes a sip of his coffee and grimaces. He looks down at the mug with one eye narrowed and puts it down.

“You’re not really expecting me to believe that you didn’t know, are you?”

And just like that the moment is over. Hana knows exactly who Soldier: 76 is and she always has. She’s only surprised he seems so nonchalant about his identity being known.

Hana bends down and picks up her box of tea. Morrison abandons his mug at the table and continues grumbling about his lack of understanding when it comes to coffee to water ratios.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh i don't even know why he wears the visor. this was a bad idea. one day i'll actually know the lore before i start writing things.


	4. lack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hana doesn't sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm adding an angst tag to this

Hana comes to the conclusion that crickets are more pleasant than gently lapping ocean waves two hours after Lucio told her she’d be “out like a baby in fifteen.” Hana knows what crickets sound like, but she doesn’t know other things, like what they eat or how they sleep, _if_ they sleep and a million other unimportant questions that she can consider for eternity. But ocean waves make her think of tides, which she understands, something to do with the moon, and then she moves on to the things she can’t explain, like where her squad members are and whether or not the something to do with the moon tides will cause Lee’s MEKA to wash up on the shores of—

Hana covers her face with both hands. She breathes out heavily and sits up. She hunches over, posture too poor for a dinner table she hasn’t seen in a year and a half. She sleeps on the floor in spite of the rickety bed sitting in the corner of the room. Being in a bed means comfort and comfort means home. Hana is not home. She has not been home since the South Korean military showed up at her door asking her to join their overseas taskforce.

Hana Song is not home and she does not sleep.


	5. sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> morrison gets a sore throat and quietly suffers

Hana knows that Morrison is not as stealthy as one would think, having been an international terrorist on the run from the law. He’s old and forgetful and surprisingly impulsive, perhaps because of a life spent being patient at the request of higher-ups. Hana doesn’t know, but she can guess.

She can also guess that Morrison’s been hiding a sore throat because he never drinks tea. And yet there he is sipping _her_ favorite tea from his usual coffee mug. He’s been clearing his throat loudly for a few days, and she can tell it isn’t because he’s trying to say something.

Morrison drinks the tea slowly, grimacing after each swallow. Whether that’s due to the taste or his throat, she’s not sure.

She notices him spending two minutes longer than usual in a nearly destroyed pharmacy in town and is woken up by his violent coughing two nights later. He stops drinking her tea and quietly replaces it in a week.

Morrison is not good at hiding things, but Hana lets him pretend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my experience, violent coughing fits after a sore throat tend to mean recovery, but i'm not an old man like 76, so maybe that oughtn't apply here


	6. yes, doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> back in the overwatch days, jack is still getting used to dr. ziegler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think the only noteworthy thing 76 has done in this entire series so far is get sick or injured.

“You have a cold, Jack.”

Jack sighs as Angela takes a seat at the table behind him. It’s been a few months since Overwatch was formed. Everyone’s still getting used to each other to some degree. Some have a more difficult time than others.

“I noticed, Dr. Ziegler.”

Angela makes one of her huffy doctor sounds and pulls out a tablet.

“That’s the third one this month,” she says, apparently looking through the team’s medical records.

“We’re in London, Dr. Ziegler. It’s November. I hardly consider it surprising that people would be getting sick under these conditions.”

“Well, I do. You’re not a child, Jack. There’s no reason to be catching a common cold when it’s so easily preventable—“

Jack slams his mug on the counter, some of the coffee sloshing over the sides.

Angela raises an eyebrow.

“There’s no need to be so miserable about it. Take a—“

“Already done,” Jack says through gritted teeth. He manages to hold the sneeze until he reaches the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the moral of this chapter is kind of meant to be "yes i'm covered in my own mucus, i'm well aware, i'm quite understanding of the fact that medicine helps with this and i've already taken the necessary actions to end it."  
> i'm not sure this is a thing other people actually feel, maybe it's just me


	7. hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hana and morrison have a moment

Late in the night, with the shine of moonlight filtering through her window, Hana begins to loathe anyone who snores. Particularly Morrison.

She pretends that she’s comfortable on the floor for another half hour before finally throwing off the covers and going to the roof. The stairs are creaky and Hana doesn’t care to be quiet. She’s bitter.

Hana looks over the landscape critically. The factory they’ve made their home in is on the outskirts of a once busy city. The immediate area is mostly forest, with one lonely road just behind the building. The parking lot is filled with abandoned cars, some of them crushed by the Omnics that once overran the factory.

Hana sits just a few inches behind the edge of the roof, pulling her knees close to her chest. The air chills her face and she sighs, thinking about her squadmates. She hears the door opening behind her and notes the heavy footfalls of what can only be pre-coffee Morrison.

“You’re not my father, Morrison. I don’t need a pep talk.”

Morrison clears his throat and steps closer to Hana.

“I know. I can tell that I don’t need to be.”

Hana’s eyes burn.

“As a soldier, I also know that it’s hard doing this alone. I know a man who might be able to help you get back home.”

“We’ll die before we can get to any airport. This is the most isolated and Omnic overrun part of the country.”

“True. But you don’t know McCree.”

“I doubt that I want to.

Morrison laughs dryly.

“Probably not. But I think he’s the only chance you got.”

Morrison goes silent, almost seeming like he wants to say something else. He doesn’t, and finally leaves.

Hana is left with the smallest of hopes and a cold nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like this chapter pretty much details exactly how i feel about dad 76 in relation to hana. not really someone that she totally needs for mentoring or anything like that, but a soldier dude who can relate to her at least a little and serve as emotional support if necessary. i'm kind of a sucker for emotionally supportive relationships that cross generations. i just think society would be better if there were more of them and less of "well young folk can't do (x) (y) (z) because of (technology)."  
> okay that was a long author's note.


	8. give me a break dude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hana just can't, like, deal with this, you know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this makes no sense and is very different in tone from the rest of the series so far, but it's a flashback to before her military recruitment. super unbeta'd, like i wrote this in a half hour unbeta'd.

Hana has very bad working habits. She’s...distracted. Easily. She knows this. She _knows_ that there’s a playlist of soothing electronica made specifically for studying that she saved somewhere on her computer.

In spite of this, she bounces her leg to a rapidly repeating beat while coming up with a million and one different spunky-fresh-cool things to say after winning yet another battle in the...the game she’s going to play when she’s done. She can’t for the life of her remember what it’s called.

At some point, she realizes that she’s been listening to the same song, in the same chair, for forty-five minutes.

_And not a goddamn word of that guest article has been written, Hana, fuck is your problem?_

It’s a week before. She’s minding her own business at twelve in the morning listening to the latest track from Nicki Minaj’s posthumously released deluxe version of pink something or other when she notices the parenthesis-one-parenthesis pop up next to “Inbox” in the email tab she’s had open and continued refreshing for the last twenty-four hours.

She races to open it ( _it’s not going anywhere, jackass, slow the fuck down_ ), and lo and behold, it’s An Important Internet Person from Waaaaaaaaaaaaay Out-fucking-side of the World of Vidja Games come to ask her for a testimonial about pro-gamer life.

It’s an old white dude asking her, a non-white woman, why she likes gaming so much. Delete.

Wait, wait, _don’t delete._

Nicki’s mean and cocky and a total shit talker and Hana hasn’t slept since she woke up, so yes, it’s the _perfect_ time to reply with an angry email of her own about if she gets one more interview request that only cares about her status as a female gamer in a “male-dominated” profession ( _check your stats, you dick_ ), she’s going to build her own news organization with his face on the front in Minecraft 6.9 (snicker) and set it on fire.

It doesn’t make any fucking sense, but she passes out soon after and feels accomplished in the morning, so it’s good.

And then there’s another email, from Mr. White Bread McDickSnot’s lady boss apologizing for his asinine questions ( _Men, right, Ms. Song?_ ) and would Ms. Song perhaps write a more generalized guest article about the experiences of pro-gamers?

Hana replies “yes!!!” in 0.2 seconds because success!!!! The patriarchy has been overthrown!!! And then she realizes that she’s going to have to write what? Two? Three thousand words about her daily life and ohhhhhhhh fuuuuuuuuuuuck she _cannot_ do this, this is why people hire fucking biographers!

_That’s the last fucking time I make fun of my old teammates for having ghostwriters._

This article isn’t getting done. Her deadline’s in...five minutes.

“Shit.”

Tick. Four.

“ _Shiiiiiiiiiiiit._ ”

The deadline passes. The military calls a week later.

And, you know what? It’s DickFace McShitNose’s fault, because if she’d felt like talking to his website again, she might have written a heavily redacted journal about _military_ life as a professional gamer.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by life, with many exaggerations


End file.
